A Life Well Lived
by Ophelia193
Summary: Rogue is in her golden years, and reflects back on the great loves of her life while talking to an old friend. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own shit. X-Men included.

A/N: This plot bunny bit me while I was visiting my mother in the nursing home. Hope it's not too depressing or nostalgic.

* * *

Rogue put the kettle on the stove and busied herself with gathering the necessary ingredients to make her afternoon tea.

"Lordy. When did Ah become a 'tea' person?" She muttered to herself, locating the honey. "Probably the same day Ah became old."

She let out a sigh as she heard a knock on the door. Leaning out the kitchen door she hollered, "Door's open, c'mon in," and proceeded to grab the cream from the fridge.

The visitor did not announce himself, but Rogue smiled, knowing that heavy yet stealthy footfall anywhere. "Hey Logan."

"Hey Darlin'." he nonchalantly responded, wandering into the kitchen.

"Want some tea, sugah?"

He cocked an eyebrow and looked incredulously at her, "Uh, no."

She smiled wryly at him, "How 'bout a beer?"

"Yeah. If ya got one."

Rogue dug through the fridge, finally locating a beer. She handed it to him, "Ain't vouching for how long that thing has been in there." He shrugged in response, open the bottle with a swift strike of one of his adamantium claws.

Turning to fix her tea she coolly remarked, "So, guess it's your turn ta babysit me today, huh Wolvie?"

"What are ya talking about?"

"Ah know that ya'll are taking turns comin' ta see me, check up on me. Kind surprised that it took ya so long ta get called in. Hell, Ah had Wiccan in here yesterday."

"We ain't babysitting ya, Rogue. We're just . . . concerned."

She breathed deeply, trying not to feel insulted. Putting away the cream and picking up her tea she silently walked to the Dining Room, knowing that Logan would follow her.

"So what? Ya think that now that Ah'm on ma own Ah'll break a hip or something?" She set her tea down on the small table, and sat facing Logan and the Living Room.

"Nothin' like that and you know it," he said, gracelessly plopping down on a chair. "We care about you and just want to help you through this."

"Unless ya can bring ma husband back, there ain't anything ya can really do ta help," she said bitterly, instantly regretting her callousness.

Logan looked her in the eye for the first time since he'd entered. Rogue was acutely aware of how young he looked. His body had probably aged only a decade since she had first met him. Sometimes she begrudged Logan's longevity, especially as her trademark white tress had been joined by the graying hairs that had graced her once auburn locks. But while she looked every day of her seventy-eight years, only Logan's eyes betrayed his true age. There was wisdom in his eyes, but also exhaustion, and pain. So much pain. Pain from having lost so many people he loved and the knowledge that he would most likely outlive those whom he still loved.

"Ah'm sorry, Logan." She wasn't sure if she was apologizing for her cutting remark or the sadness in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he said gruffly. Silence hung thickly in the air as they both sipped at their drinks. Unable to think of anything else to say, he conversationally said, "So, Wiccan showed up? Any other distant relations come out of the woodwork?"

She let out a small laugh, "It seems that anyone who was in any way a part of ma life at any time has come around, checkin' on me. Not sure if Ah appreciate it or resent the hell out of it."

"The kids been 'round?"

"Yeah. Grandkids too."

"And the great-grandchild?" Logan asked with an amused smirk.

"Lordy," Rogue gave an exasperated sigh, "Don't remind me. Ah might love the little tyke, but did Shannon have ta make me a great-grandma already?"

Logan chuckled. "Pretty sure you saw that one coming. Think you mentioned it to me the day of her Junior Prom, that she'd be sticking you with the moniker of great-grandmother before she turned twenty."

"Can Ah call them or can Ah call them?"

Logan gave her a gentle smile. "You always were a good judge of character, Darlin'. With one exception."

She suppressed a groan. If there was ever anything that had divided the two friends, it was her first husband. Rogue had been sure that Wolverine would never speak to her again after she had announced her engagement. But time had healed those wounds.

Rogue's eyes flickered over to a photo on the Living Room wall. There she was, in her early thirties, with her first husband and eldest son, who was just a toddler when the photo was taken. She smiled at her child's joyous face as he exuberantly grasped both of his parents' hands. The good times did not last. The cracks in the façade of their marriage were already starting to show by that point, and the divorce had been finalized before their son's fourth birthday.

"If it hadn't been for him," she barely whispered to Logan, yet keeping her eye on the photo, "Ah'd never have had Kurt. Don't that make it worth it?"

Logan turned his gaze to follow Rogue's line of sight, taking in the picture of the seemingly happy family. It still turned his stomach. The idea of one of his dearest friends shacked up with that megalomaniac, murderous rat-bastard—. But there was little Kurt. And he had to smile.

"Yeah, it was worth it. I'm just grateful that the kid took after his namesake and not his father."

"He takes after Erik a little."

Wolverine let out a huff. "Hell no he don't. He takes after the elf. All quiet strength and forgiveness, not an ego the size of Rhode Island and a stick up his butt."

"Erik did not have a stick up his butt. He was just . . ."

"A fucking nutcase ? "

She rolled her eyes, "Ah was going to say devoted to his cause."

"Nutcase is better."

"So, Ah guess that made me Mrs. Nutcase."

"For a while it did. Till ya wised up."

"We went our separate ways, Ah didn't 'wise up.' Ah don't think much in ma life has been based on wisdom."

"Ya got something better than that."

"And what is that?"

"Ya got heart, kid."

Rogue burst into laughter. He looked at her, slightly bemused, and more than slightly confused.

"Ok, sugah. First off, Ah think I'm a bit too old for ya ta call me 'kid.' Great-grandma, remember?"

"Still younger than me," he muttered.

"Second of all," she continued, "that has got ta be the sappiest thing Ah have EVER heard you say."

"Yeah, well," he grumbled darkly, "I'm allowed one sappy as shit comment a decade. Looks like you're the lucky recipient this time."

"Ah'll alert the presses."

"Shut it," he snapped, trying to hide the smile threatening to find its way onto his face.

She smiled as she daintily sipped her tea. Letting a comfortable silence grow between them, her gaze returned to the pictures in the Living Room. There were no other photographs with Magneto in them, they made everyone feel uncomfortable, especially her second husband. The lone photograph had been allowed to stay because everyone wanted to remind Kurt that his father had loved him, and in that picture, the doting steely blue eyes had clearly portrayed that.

"Wish he had been old enough to remember how much his father loved him, not needed the picture," she said to herself, momentarily forgetting that she had company. She blushed when she remembered that she was not alone.

"That'll happen when your dad's frinkin' ancient," Wolverine replied.

"You're one to talk."

"We're not talking about me, now are we?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Forget Ah said anything."

"No," Logan said in his normal, blunt manner. "Ya knew what you were getting into with him. For Christ's sake, I know he told you himself that it was a foolish thing to fall for him. He knew he wouldn't be able to see his son grow up. If his constant fighting wouldn't get him, then old age would."

She gritted her teeth. She hated having this argument. She felt like she'd been having it for forty years now. Everyone had warned her about being with Magneto, telling her how he'd never really change, how she'd always come second, how he was far too old for her. So many reasons why she shouldn't have felt the way she did, didn't change a damn thing. Her friends should have known better than to try and reason with her when it came to love; she was headstrong to begin with, and downright bullheaded when it came to relationships.

The only time that the "told you so's" had ebbed had been when Erik died. She had moved on by then: remarried, baby on the way, and reunited with the friends who had hated her decision to be with him in the first place. She took comfort that he had died in battle. She knew he wouldn't have had it any other way. He was a fighter to the end, and even if it was only a seemingly minor skirmish between his newly reformed Acolytes and a mutant hate group, at least he died standing up for what he believed in. She had told herself those words over and over, like a mantra, but it didn't change the fact that the man she had once loved, the father of her child, was gone. And though she loathed to admit it, she had missed him. Still did, some times.

"Would you have done any different, Logan? If ya knew that you only had a little bit of time with someone you loved, would you have walked away or treasured the time ya had?" She knew the answer, knew his heart.

He looked away, not voicing his admittance that he was just like her, just giving a slight nod then changing the subject. "Don't matter anyways. Kurt _had_ a dad who loved him and took care of him." Rogue realized that Logan was now looking at the room full of photos. She smiled as his eyes traveled from one photo to another.

She rose, "Come on," she said and she walked out of the dining room and to the mahogany suede sofa.

Logan followed her into the room, but stood, surveying the images of friends and family. He smiled wide at one, "Always liked this one."

Rogue glanced at the picture that had caught his attention and smiled back at her friend, "That's because ya look damn dapper in that suit you wore."

"Ain't that. It was just . . ." his voice softened, "it was a good day. You looked happy," he smirked at her, "and drop dead gorgeous."

She gave him a faux look of shock. "Why don't you know, bride's always looked gorgeous on their wedding day? 'Sides, Ah looked good at my first wedding too, don't hear ya going' on 'bout that. Ah'm pretty sure ya just like the look of yourself in Armani."

He chuckled, and looked back at the wedding photo. "Still not sure how the hell 'Ro managed to rope me into that."

"Oh, Ah've got some idea."

"And you'd be wise not to voice it."

"No one ever said Ah was wise. Think ya admitted so yourself not ten minutes ago."

His eyes still on the photograph. "Only wore the suit because all the groomsmen had to. Not my fault that the Cajun had decent taste in clothing. Before that, I'd figured the only thing he knew shit about were trench coats."

Rogue chucked. "Ya didn't think that a self-described ladies' man would know 'bout clothing?"

"Always figured the only way he got chicks to fall for him was that hypnotic charm thing, or the dumbass accent."

"Think Ah fell for that, did ya?"

"At first," Logan replied honestly, then turned to gage her reaction. "Figured out after a while that you saw something in him that no one else saw, someone flawed but trying to redeem himself, someone who loved you with all his heart. Realized that you saw him for what he really was and you loved him all the same, knew that the best shot for either of you to be truly happy was to be together."

"Sounds like hindsight to me."

"Naw, I told you at the time. You just didn't listen."

"Ah always listened to you, sugar."

"Not about Mag—"

"Ah listened then," Rogue's voice inched up in volume with every syllable, "but I had to find ma own way."

Logan sighed. Normally he would be fine getting into a verbal sparring match with her, Rogue being the only one he thought could really compete with him on the whole hot-headed fuming front. But he was here to comfort her, so he took a few deep breaths before responding.

"As long as you found your way to someone you loved."

Her perturbed visage faltered, confused by his sensitive response. Quickly realizing what was behind it, she decided not to push. She was too tired to call him out for treating her with kid gloves. She refocused on the family photos, her eyes turning to one where she was holding a tiny bundle. Her week old daughter held safely in her arms, her husband held onto her son, both of whom were gazing at the new addition to their family.

"He never treated Kurt any different than the kids he had with me, did he?"

"Nope. Trademark of a good man, being a father to a child you didn't father. But he loved you so much I doubted he could help but love any child of yours."

"You're getting soppy on me, old man."

"And you've become a nostalgic old broad. Don't change the subject. He couldn't help by love your children, no matter if they were his or not."

"God, can ya remember when Irene was that tiny? Like a loaf of bread or somethin'."

"Henri was smaller when he was born. _He_ was tiny."

"But Charles was the size of Buick."

Logan cocked an eyebrow. "I think that's just your imagination, darlin'."

"Yeah, well, twenty-two hours of labor will make ya hallucinate a bit."

"More than a bit."

"Shut it."

"At one point you threatened to stick a hypodermic up Hank's ass if he didn't get the baby out of you pronto."

"Shut it."

"By the end of it you were screaming that you'd cut the Cajun's balls off."

"Shut it."

"For all I know, you followed through, since you didn't have any more kids."

"Shit, Logan! Can you shut the hell up? Why do you only remember this crap?"

"Because those are the moments that make this long life of mine worth living."

Without really understanding why, Rogue's eyes filled with tears. "Logan . . ."

"Just hold onto them okay? Hold onto the memories. I know they hurt like hell right now, with him being gone, but take it from someone with experience in these matters. Moments like those are the reason you keep going, and they'll keep you going if you let them." Rogue gazed at Logan with tear filled eyes, finding the same expression being returned to her. He continued, "I'm sorry 'bout Remy, Darlin', but you had a lot longer with him than most people have with the great love of their life."

"Thirty-five years," she squeaked out. "Still wasn't enough."

"Never is. But beggars can't be choosers. An' people like us? Big time beggars when it comes to love."

Tears still stinging her eyes, she surveyed the images splayed out on her wall. She gave Logan a knowing smile. "Ah did alright for a beggar, didn't Ah?"

"Yeah, you did, but only 'cause you deserved it."

"Ya didn't get half of what you deserved when it comes to love. Ah'm sorry."

Now Logan surveyed the images, realizing just how many of them he was in. "I got _more_ than I deserved," he whispered.

Sniffling slightly, he muttered "I should go."

Rogue smiled and rose to show him to the door. He paused on the threshold.

"Love ya, Darlin'. You know that, right? Didn't always love all the decisions that you made, didn't change how I felt about you."

The bitter tears that she had been holding back spilled over, washing down her face. "Ah love ya too, Logan." The tears tasted sweeter through her smiling lips.


End file.
